


Stay

by Soul93



Category: Gangsta. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Because sometimes love is toxic too, Dark Humor, F/M, Implied Alex Benedetto/Nicolas Brown, Romance, They shouldn't but they do, Unresolved Romantic Tension, bad habits, implied infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 22:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul93/pseuds/Soul93
Summary: She’s shaking her head, tears falling down her cheeks.This is the perfect moment to let her go, to take a step back and create even more distance.But he’s scrap at honouring moments.So he does that selfish thing he’d wanted to avoid and kisses her.





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this three years ago and finally decided to post it. Very angsty, but oh well. I stan this pairing, unhealthily so. I've written so many pieces for them, but my addiction continues to run amok.
> 
> When I was writing this I was listening to Stay by Rihanna ft Mikky Ekko. As I was rereading it I was listening to Without Me by Hasley, but I decided to keep the original title.

**IIII**

_You can’t lose what you never had._

It’s like a mantra, the type he’s been repeating in his mind since this shit day began. Only it’s pouring and it’s not just the hard liquor cascading down his throat. It’s getting late. But he can’t even remember the last time he fell asleep long enough to dream so what’s the point again?

Somewhere his phone rings again but just like forty minutes ago, he has no intention of picking up. She’ll probably worry her bottom lip, her eyes filled with worry. It’s the only reaction he can elicit out of her and he can’t even find solace in that.

He leans back on the couch. It’s probably bad for his back. Shit, like he’d care about his health now. He’s already got a date with lung cancer, probably, definitely with his fucked up luck. He could die here, right now with the cigarette between his lips he’s too lazy to spit out.

Hadn’t he read somewhere about the number of people who burnt to death from falling asleep with a cigarette in their hand? He could be one of them. If he was suicidal and he’s still too sober to decide if he is or isn’t.

The cat that isn’t his mews and brushes against his leg before it too finds something more interesting to do.

He lifts the hand that’s not cradling his drink to his eye. The thing has been throbbing like crazy. It’s been years but every time when the weather is bad or when he thinks too much, it throbs like a bitch. He can’t do anything about the weather and he’s halfway into solving the thinking too much problem with alcohol._ Hello liver disease and since I’m in such a giving mood I’ll through in two kidneys for kicks._

Fuck he always gets way too generous with his anatomy when he starts drinking.

He’ll be calling an old client next, wondering if their willing to have a tumble for old times’ sake. But he’ll need to get up and actually get to his phone to do that. _Guess it’s just us boys_. He thinks dryly eying his callous hands.

He must have dozed off because when he next wakes up his cigarette is gone – no he didn’t go out as a ball of fire either. He can smell something cooking and the sounds of someone moving around his kitchen.

“You’re awake.”

He eyes her for a second. Tries not to think how well she looks in her sweater and snug jeans.

“And you’re phone clearly works,” she continues, her eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you return calls?”

“Is this one of those conversations where I need to be an active participant before you leave?” he asks warily, dryly and hey let’s add a heavy dose of sarcasm.

She’s not impressed with his attitude.

They used to joke a lot. Well, he used to tease and flirt and she’d half-heartedly put him in line or use violence. Now they can’t even hold a conversation for two minutes without it getting strained or awkward.

Worse he can feel an oncoming headache no doubt thanks to his only friend of late, Jack Daniels. The guy is fucking reliable. Even the way he screws you over never catches you off guard. Mostly, he doesn’t go and fall in love with the same girl as you. Really a better man he has yet to meet.

“I thought it was just my call, but no one has spoken to you in weeks,” she says.

He shakes his head. “I object,” he says. “The guy at the corner liquor stores sees me so often he rings up my order before we even exchange pleasantries.”

“Are you proud of yourself?”

“Ask me that in six months once I become a loyalty member and get discounts on Thursdays.”

If she was the cursing type she’d probably cuss him out right about now, instead she turns on her heels. “Take a shower, dinner will be ready in ten minutes!” she snaps.

He considers ignoring her, but she’s also taken his booze.

When he gets up and his body screams and aches he releases a strew of curses under his breath all the way to the shower.

He has no problem cursing.

/

_She shouldn’t have come._

It’s what she thinks but she can’t make herself feel. She didn’t know what she expected when she let herself in, he never did change the locks, but finding him passed out on the couch from drinking wasn’t it. _Also which idiot falls asleep with a lit cigarette in his mouth? _She could have strangled him there and there, but she couldn’t.

Instead she’d sat on the coffee table and just stared at him.

She can’t help him when he won’t even answer her stupid calls.

And even with the dark circles and week old stubble he still looks beautiful.

“You could have shaved,” she says when he enters the kitchen, hair damp and smelling of sandalwood.

He grins. It doesn’t reach his eye. “I’m actually thinking of growing a beard to go with this whole drunk recluse I’m channeling,” he jokes.

At least she hopes he’s joking.

“Sit.” She instructs.

Giving orders is easy. It’s speaking without actually having a conversation. They used to be good with conversation. She could tell him everything, even the ugly tainted parts. Now he won’t even look at her and when he does it’s filled with accusation, hurt and something she’d rather not acknowledge.

Dinner is quiet. He’s wolfing through his meal and soon she’ll have no reason to linger.

This was ‘we’re no longer friends, not really sure we ever were, but I’m worried about you’ visit. At least that’s what she’d told Connie on the phone. Sitting here, close enough to touch his arm should she choose, she’s no longer so sure.

To be honest she’s not sure about a lot of things lately. Least of all her ‘we’re going to try and see if it can work relationship not really’ with Nicolas.

She’s tried talking to Connie, but Connie bless her soul, has that toe-curling I’d gladly die in your arms type of love and Alex’s mess of a relationship is foreign territory.

She sighs. The man before her usually has all the answers, but this is the one conversation they can’t have. There was no agreement just a mutual understanding after that day when he walked in on them kissing.

“You should go, I’ll wash the dishes.” He says and snaps her out of her thoughts.

She straightens up. “No, I’ll do it.”

It’s an excuse to linger just a bit longer.

He doesn’t fight her.

She watches him shuffle out the kitchen, hand absently rubbing at the place where his left eye should be.

/

_He needs her gone._

Like two hours ago before she sat foot into his apartment. He really needs to change the lock or something. But even as he thinks it he knows he probably won’t. He’s a masochist after all.

And she’s taking far too long to wash a handful of dishes.

He groans, licks his dry lips and wonders how much more of this torture he can stand.

“I’m done.” She announces.

_Good._

He waves from his perch on the couch. Seriously if he intends to spend so much time on it, he might need to invest in a decent one.

But he doesn’t hear her fading footsteps or the closing of the door.

“Worick... I just...” she pauses unable to finish her sentence.

_Fuck, it better not be another lame-ass apology_. She did nothing wrong. He doesn’t even hate her.

“If you start apologizing again I’ll sic that stray cat on you,” he threatens with a grin that hurts his cheeks. “And it could have rabies or some other equally life-threatening shit you probably don’t want.”

She tilts her head to the side and honestly she has no right to smile like that. Like she cares.

“Is that how you chase away your visitors?” she asks.

“Sometimes, mostly I just fake my own death.”

She chuckles.

It’s easy this air between them in this moment. It shouldn’t be though, because then he might start forgetting why he can’t be around her.

Do something selfish and kiss her. Because he loves Nic and all but shit no one kisses as well as he does.

“Earlier... what I was going to say was that I really miss you.” She admits softly.

_Yeah that really puts the end to whatever that moment just was._

“You should go.”

“Why do you do that?” she asks angrily.

“Do what?”

“Ignore my calls when I call to see if you’re okay. Use sarcasm when I try to talk to you and tell me to leave when you want me to stay,” she elaborates in a heated voice. “Why do you always do that, Worick?”

Her voice hitches in the end and she swallows a sob and suddenly he can’t breathe. Here in this apartment that reminds him too much of her. He stands up, runs a frustrated hand through his hair. Grinds his teeth and wishes Jack was here, he could use a drink.

“You can’t even answer me can you?” she accuses.

He pounces on her, hands grabbing her shoulders. “Why do _you_ call when I don’t answer your calls? Why do _you_ keep trying to talk to me when it’s clear I don’t want to have a conversation with you? Why do _you_ keep telling me you’re going but never leave?!” he demands just as hotly. “Can you answer me, Alex?”

She’s shaking her head, tears falling down her cheeks.

This is the perfect moment to let her go, to take a step back and create even more distance.

But he’s shit at honouring moments.

So he does that selfish thing he’d wanted to avoid and kisses her. She’s startled at first, her palms pressing uselessly against his chest. But he hadn’t been serious at first, but now he is and she’s crumbling, melting into him in a way that makes his chest burn.

She tastes like tears and the rain outside. She tastes like she did the first time they ever kissed and like then, it takes his breath away.

/

_Why is it every time she kisses this man she can’t decide whether she’s in a dream or hallucinating?_

It never feels real until it does. Until her toes curl into her shoes and her chest threatens to burst with all the emotions she can’t name. She’s not pulling away, she’s diving headlong into his madness because it’s peaceful here – in the chaos they’ve created. With all the feelings they pretend don’t exist and the emotions they leave nameless.

It’s going to hurt.

When they eventually pull away and reality sets in.

But for now she’s okay with this imperfect moment when it feels like he’s stitching up all the parts of herself that she thought she lost trying to love herself after everything she was.

/

His panting, trying to catch his breath. Their lips are inches apart, close enough that he can feel her warm breath.

He’s probably strung on lack of sleep, too much time spent obsessing over her and a diet heavy on alcohol. So it makes sense that the first words that stumble out of his mouth are his undoing.

“Stay.”

/

_Stay._

When she should leave.

_Why can’t she leave?_

“Just tonight, Alex.”

But it’s a lie. It can never be that simple between them. It’s going to boil over, bleed into everything they hold dear and kill them just a little more inside.

She should leave.

Instead,

“Okay, just tonight,” she says.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done requests, but if there are other shippers of this pairing and the premise is interesting I wouldn't mind writing a one-shot. There's just not enough of this pairing, it's depressing.


End file.
